She wondered if the bird tally would be different on a hopeful; on a sun-potential day. If she ever had the energy, she would ask her neighbour down the hall who whistled. He might see a different sky; different birds.

Wow – exemplary. Gripping from start to finish – the phrases and word choices to tell the story? Awesome. The sense of the weight of the depression is so clear. Your choice to use clipped phrases to describe the weather – really works. It adds to the feelings of not being able to “focus” on more than little if anything at a time. There is a sharpness to the sensations, which still live in the fog. (A great paradox of suffering from deep depression etc.)

And the last paragraph?? Mind blowing! I mean introducing the slightest spark of hope – it breathes life – and offers a spark that helps the reader identify even more, in my opinion, with the narrator. And the way you’ve phrased it – oh it is so beautiful. It leaves me speechless, breathless. Seeing a different sky perhaps, therefore different birds etc. Stunning – simply stunning. :)

“So thoughtful and encouraging,” she nodded. “Sitting on the porch of a darkened house can open different vistas. We each perceive the world through different lens — her neighbours might see gold finches, and she see starlings. I hope she has the strength and energy to listen to what he sees.”